No Strings Attached
by S. A. Morley
Summary: What began as a simple night guard gig became something nightmarish for Jeremy Fitzgerald. At first it was just wandering animatronics, but the more he looked, the more he uncovered a gruesome secret locked away in a box. Delving into the truth, he soon realizes that a twisted chain reaction has begun, and he may be the only one who can stop it from claiming more, innocent lives.
1. Enter the Noob

**OH MY GOSH, HI. **

**So, I am SUPER stoked to present this story to y'all, since I am a recently-converted Five Nights at Freddy's FANATIC! Y'know, the sad thing about me is that I usually jump into trends late, and while I may have missed the original hype wagon for FNAF, I'm happy to say that I think I joined this train while the trend was in full swing. I'm excited about that! Hopefully this story will entertain you all. I worked crazy hard on it!**

**Anyway, while I love the horrifying concept that the brilliant Scott Cawthon invented, I typically hate the horror genre. I don't like being scared, and honestly, if I don't see a legit reason for an undead monster to start attacking people, then I won't take a horror story seriously. Which brings me to why I wrote this story: I don't believe anybody becomes a bloodthirsty demon after they die. It's just not what people do! And five little kids?! No way, Jose! **

**In light of this point, this story will be a bit on the lighter spectrum of horror. Don't worry, it'll still stare you in quite a few places (it sure scared me), but since it's almost impossible to _write_ a convincing jump scare, the game play aspects you know won't quite be as solid. Instead, I'll start getting in your head with unnerving, psychological horror that'll make you even more afraid of animatronics and child-oriented pizzerias. Buckle up, buttercup. You're in for a ride. :) **

_**No Strings Attached **_**begins in the familiar scene of Five Nights at Freddy's 2, read from the protagonist Jeremy Fitzgerald. He's a lot more fleshed out - all the characters in here are. Hopefully I explained his motives, his in-game reactions and his personality well. I guess you'll be the judge of that, huh? I also tweaked a few lore points so that the slightly-modified story makes sense. You'll see what I mean later.****  
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**Before I see you off, I'd like to acknowledge the help of several people who inspired me: MandoPony, NateWantsToBattle, Groundbreaking, GMM, Griffinilla, Sheppard, Rebornica, my lovely sisters NekoKem, AliZoe and DooderButtDJ, the awesome artists who supplied the clips for the cover art, and most of all: SCOTT CAWTHON! All of these characters belong to him, and him alone. He deserves all the credit.**

**I invite you to read _No Strings Attached. _Let me know what you think! Forgive me for any errors, as always, thank you.**

* * *

Hey, there. Nice to meet you. H-how are you doing? Are you new in town?

...Err, I'm Jeremy. Jeremy Fitzgerald. I'm actually really glad to see a new face around, here. We welcome as many as we can get; people like you help give new life to tired, small towns like this. Heaven knows we need some life, especially after what happened at Freddy's. Stale towns with stale people often spawn unbelievable stories and legends, and trust me when I tell you that we're no exception. Uh, I hope I'm not scaring you off...

_Hm… _

Hey, are you by chance familiar with the company Fazbear Entertainment? Maybe the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza franchise? Well, if you are or not, I really need to get something off of my chest, but nobody else will listen. Harry already knows everything, so he's not a great person to vent to, even if he is my best friend.

Ahh, Harry… he was there with me the whole time, and man, has he seen it all. Sorry, I'm rambling... But _you_ weren't there those nights, were you? Would you mind if I, uh, chewed your ear for a bit? I promise I won't, like, mug you, or anything. I don't have that in me.

...Wait, you'll listen?! Really?! Wow, th-thanks! You're the bomb! What was your name?

Awesome. Again, it's so nice to meet you. Man, I can finally relieve all this pressure. But, uh… where do I start?

Well, I guess I should start with how I got myself into all this. I-I'll admit (and you can probably tell) that I'm kinda nervous to tell you everything, but that's just because of who I am and what I've seen.

I mean, I've always been a nervous kind of guy, but working at Freddy's sort of sent my anxiety through the roof. I had to get some anti-anxiety pills for my recently-diagnosed panic attacks… Kinda sucks, but you know? That's just how life turns out, sometimes. Honestly, though, after you hear what I'm about to tell you, you'll understand that some people have it _much_ worse than I do. I really can't complain about anything.

But first let me get something out of the way before I drag you into this, all right? I never wanted to work at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Like, _ever._

Seriously, if I wasn't so desperate to make some money, I never would have dialed their number for an interview, let alone consider the option. The only thing that got me to apply was the fact that if I couldn't pay my rent, I would get kicked out of my apartment and forced onto the unforgiving streets of town. I probably could've starved. I might have even lost my car in the process. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's pretty rough out there.

Crawling back home to my parents wasn't an option, either, considering they were hundreds of miles across the country. And to top off the sundae, they promised me on the day I moved out that their doors were shut tight until I had a decent job, a wife, and at least two kids.

So, there you go. I was nineteen, almost broke, and one-hundred percent on my own. I had no choice, seeing as nobody else was hiring at the time. It was either go to Freddy's, or start begging for change at the mall.

Anyway, apart from the chilling rumors people drew up about the company, I could never get past the eerie aura Freddy's just seemed to give off _naturally._ Something about the way the building's windows glinted sent my spine rattling whenever I drove past it. The ads with the animatronics printed on them always made me uncomfortable. Since the new place opened a few weeks ago, I shied away from the talk around town of the new-and-improved pizzeria and its new attractions, my mind twisting each story into a mangled mess of paranoia and speculation.

Suffice to say, when I saw that our new local Freddy's was hiring, I initially denied the thought of applying. But with my savings depleting rapidly, I did what I had to do.

Even though I _really_ didn't want to.

Man, it's hard to believe this all started just last week…

After eight consecutive sleepless nights and countless denied job opportunities, I finally had to throw in the towel. At that moment, my options for employment were exhausted. There was nothing more I could do - no more managers to prod to hire me, no more searching, no more waiting. My checkbook was drowning in red ink. I was down to my last bruised apple and a half-carton of warm, sour milk. I lost my electricity two days before. I took cold showers and washed my clothes with dish soap in the tub. _Urgghh… _Talk about horrid. I hated living like that.

But on that cool, mid-autumn afternoon, I forced myself to pick up the newspaper, dial the number I had circled, and mustered my courage to try and set up an interview.

The phone seemed to ring for centuries before, finally, a woman answered on the other end. I'll, uh, spare you the details of the long, arduous call, since I stumbled hopelessly over everything I said. It was pretty embarrassing. But despite my poor representation, the lady on the phone invited me to come over to see their security manager that night, all with a kind smile in her voice.

From what she was saying, she seemed almost eager to have me come in, which both surprised me and gave me some hope. It was heaven-sent salvation, and boy, did I need that more than anything else. It was rejuvenating. She was sweet and encouraging, happy to take a job offer from a stuttering, desperate teenager. I almost passed out while on the phone, I was so thankful for her. She kinda reminded me of my mom.

Before hanging up, she told me that the security manager, Mr. Cawthon, was only available an hour before they closed - around 9:00 - that night. I accepted with gusto, and told her I'd be there on the dot. Now let's get real, here. I didn't care how late it was. As long as he was willing to give me a chance, I didn't even care if he made me show up at two in the morning.

After bombarding the woman with my thanks, I hung up the phone, an odd mixture of anxiety, excitement, and ambition bubbling in my stomach. Maybe Freddy's wasn't so bad after all? Maybe they would save me from a life of poverty? It was too soon to tell, but I wanted to make sure I had good standing with Mr. Cawthon, just in case I had competition. I had to prepare accordingly.

It was around five o'clock, which meant I had a bit of time to kill before my interview. I used every precious second wisely, spending the remainder of my day scouring my tiny apartment for only the best I had to offer. I picked out my nicest tie, polished my shoes, and unearthed a bottle of cologne my dad had given me before I left. I showered at least three times to get rid of all the sweat and dirt caking my body, brushing my teeth till they gleamed and the sink ran pink. I combed my hair for once, and shaved my stubble. I even put on deodorant - a little extra, too, just to be safe.

Once I got myself gussied up in my nicest Sunday shirt and slacks, I rebooted my résumé with some of my recent activity before I moved out, which took a little over an hour. I had to make myself look good on paper, too, y'know?

After a long half hour of rehearsing, straightening my slouch, practicing my best smile, and trying to iron out my anxious vibrato, I faced my bathroom mirror at the finished product. I didn't look too shabby for someone so poor. My usually-tousled black hair was combed to the side neatly, my sideburns trimmed and my face clean-shaven. A pair of dark circles hung beneath my light brown eyes, making me look more tired than I was, but at the very least, I didn't look like I had been surviving off of noodles and jam for a solid week. Granted, I was a scrawny, malnourished toothpick, but my clothes were baggy enough that you couldn't tell.

When at last darkness deluged my apartment, it came time to leave. Miraculously, around the butterflies fluttering about my insides, I found myself half-dragging, half-springing out the door into the driver's seat of my rusty, dented Bronco in the complex lot. My résumé flopped about in my shaking hands as I set it, its margins now wrinkled from sweat, onto the threadbare passenger seat.

Curling my fingers around the steering wheel, I exhaled deeply, picturing myself as a night guard. If I got the job, this would be my very first graveyard shift, and that, in and of itself was a little unsettling to me. Before I had the time to let my mind wander to its macabre corners, I locked my door, buckled up tight, and peeled out of the lot, headed straight for the new pizzeria in the old heart of town.

Thankfully it wasn't too far, since my Bronco was putting by on fumes. The parking lot was packed when I pulled in, which was pretty unsurprising, since Freddy's advertised their establishment well. The fuzzy faces of the new bear, rabbit and chicken had been strewn across the newspapers diligently for weeks. They even upped the anty further by flashing their happy, singing mugs on TV during nearly all of the commercial breaks. Everyone in town knew their theme song by heart, now. A few days earlier, I even saw some guy in a golden Freddy suit dancing near a stoplight, drawing customers in by tangoing with a big sign in his hands.

Clearly, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was the place to be.

It was a miracle I found an empty space in the congested lot. Pulling forward, I shut off the Bronco, my thoughts swirling in dizzying circles around my fears. I didn't have time to be afraid of this place. I had to get this job. There was _no other way _I'd make it if I didn't_._ I didn't care if it was only for a few nights. Anything would help me at this point. With a shaky sigh, I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, gathered up my résumé, and got out of the driver's side.

I took a deep breath, taking in the smell of car exhaust and kitchen grease tinting the Saturday night air. It tickled my nose in a sickly-sweet way. A brush of mid-autumn wind froze the sweat collecting under my temples, rustling my shaggy black hair over my slick forehead. Swiping it aside, I bit my lip and slipped my keys into my pocket, edging around my headlights and towards the building at the crest of the lot.

"Here we go, Jeremy…" I murmured to myself. "You can do it. It's just a pizzeria. This is your only chance."

Hey, I know you're new in town, but have you seen it yet? It's the stout one with the trimmed lawn and cracked pavement by the gas station. Though the new management tried to give the place a facelift with nice coats of lemon-yellow paint, the roof shingles still sagged, browned, from years of beatings in the harsh Texas sunlight. The shadows cast off from the streetlamps surrounding the place highlighted the building's faces, reflecting off the windows brilliantly, but at the same time giving it an eerie appearance, looming in the darkness.

Despite being rather slight in height, the place covered some ground, with the various rooms jutting out into the lawn like the tabs of jigsaw pieces. Gardens full of dry sod and bright flowers bordered the foundation, curling around the property. Vivid red curtains in the windows attracted the eye, with candy-colored streamers dangling behind the hand-painted words 'CELEBRATE!' and 'LET'S PARTY!' smothering the illuminated glass.

And above the doors hung a sign you would have to be blind to miss. Carved into the pizza-stylized backboard were the cheery grins of the new Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie, emblazoned beneath with their logo FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZA, brightly lit from below.

I gave an inevitable gulp as I crossed the parking lot and proceeded up the concrete steps for the door. Even through the heavy glass, I could hear the chaos within - the combinative noise of cheesy music, the babble of conversation, and the oh-so-prevalent thundering of a million screaming children. Peering through the windows at the whirlwind I was about to plunge into, I found myself sighing in relief as I remembered the job ad. If I got hired, I would be watching the place from the peaceful, quiet hours of midnight to six in the morning, completely devoid of other people.

But I didn't realize that the "quiet" I was anticipating was nonexistent after hours, here. You'll see what I mean later.

Grasping the handle, I heaved it open and entered the restaurant. I was blasted back immediately by the sheer might of the wall of sound barreling into me, stumbling slightly. It was stifling. Oh, boy…

Not only were my ears inundated with noise, but my nose was also, only instead with the heavenly scent of gooey, melted cheese. I didn't mind this assault one bit - the smell was almost intoxicating, and it only got better the more it lingered in my sinuses. Beneath the glorious, cheesy perfection danced the zest of spiced tomato sauce, pepperoni, onions, garlic, oregano… The works. The aroma enveloped me, snuggling me into a starving stupor. My empty stomach whined in its depravity of cheap ramen and Cheetos. I clutched my abdomen, moaning inside.

Now, the main hall of the pizzeria, if I could describe it in one word to you, would be grand. It was big. It was vibrant, fun and welcoming. Confetti littered the sea of black and white checkered tile stretching throughout the place. Streamers, birthday banners and sparkling trinkets hung from the ceiling, dangling near the clusters of colorful balloons placed periodically about, all attached to oversized presents. Several children ran to and fro unsupervised, chasing each other from one room to the next in a frenzy. They nearly trampled me, they were _everywhere._

Across the floor, a miniature carousel spun, chirping out a cute, nameless tune as it ran. A group of kids were all fighting over a turn to ride the machine, pushing, hitting, pulling hair, and all the while jostling it as they brawled beside the pair of tables their parents were sitting at.

Oblivious to the fighting, their parents conversed with each other, trying to tune out the repetitive offers of an animatronic child handing out balloons nearby. My lip twitched at the sight of it, my skin crawling. I hadn't seen _that _one in the newspapers. I already knew I was gonna have nightmares about its perpetual smile, and its creepy, wide-eyed stare… _Urgh… _

Now suddenly uncomfortable, I turned my eyes away quickly, resting them on a quartet of tables to my right, where the majority of the music in the room resonated from. Filled with adults and children alike, they sat in front of a stage, cheering for the chorus of animatronics performing for them. I almost did a double-take after taking in the titular trio on stage.

The very first one I laid eyes on was the rabbit, Bonnie, sporting a bright blue paint job and a bushy white tail. He danced in an astonishingly human-like manner to the music as he strummed a red guitar. His sleek body, cherry-red bow tie and buck teeth shone acutely in the spotlights as he happily jammed out.

Maybe it was my imagination, but the pupils in his lime-green eyes seemed to shrink whenever he looked out into the crowd, growing larger when he turned to his bandmates in an odd cycle. Or… was I just seeing things?

Shaking my head, my gaze immediately flew toward the character at the far end of the stage as she broke into a jaunty soprano solo.

I gaped at the sight of her. They had _really _changed Chica from her original look I had seen in the old ads. She was much more feminine, now, with a slender, curvy body any girl (robotic or not) would envy. Still, she was recognizable as Chica the Chicken, apart from the pink, bikini-like bottom she wore. Her bright, shimmery yellow coating, orange beak and feet, and her trademark bib, modified with 'LET'S PARTY!' were dead giveaways. Just like Bonnie, she had blushed cheeks, and… eyeshadow, of all things.

And in the middle of the trio stood Freddy Fazbear himself. He was fatter than I remembered him being, but still just as jolly. Holding a microphone to his mouth, he sang the main vocals to the company theme in a goofy, yet deep, voice. Tall, and covered in chocolatey fur, he blinked his sky-blue eyes periodically throughout the final chorus, scanning left and right through the faces of the crowd.

While grinning to both of his rosy cheeks, he wiggled his ears to earn some laughs as he finished the song with a cymbal crash. With a gradual bow, he removed his top hat as the room erupted in applause. I managed to join in, myself.

My heart skipped a beat when he said, "Thank you! Thank you! That was fun, everybody!" His voice, while silly, deep and electronic, bore a distinct metallic ring behind it that made the hair on my neck stand on end. Freddy squinted his eyes happily, glancing to the rabbit and chicken beside him. "I think we have one more song to sing for a special birthday, guys!"

Chica giggled, her voice youthful, girly and sweet. It seemed they all had the same metallic sound backing their tones. Must have been their voice boxes. "Oh, that's right! I forgot, Freddy! Now, who were we celebrating again?" She placed a finger on her chin, peering innocently out into the four tables below her.

Immediately, one of the kids near the carousel shot up like a rocket, waving his hands in the air wildly, shouting, "Me! Me! Me! It's MY birthday, Chica!"

She replied with a beaming smile, giggling some more and batting her long eyelashes, "Hurray!"

Bonnie leaned forward, his ears perking as he cheered in a spunky voice, "What are you waiting for? Get on up here so we can sing to you, squirt!"

With a delighted squeal, the birthday boy sprinted through his friends and for the stage, bouncing at the feet of Freddy's band. He could hardly contain his excitement. From the back he looked around six or seven, and man, was he having the time of his life. I smiled. It was nice to see a kid so happy, y'know?

Perhaps all the rumors about this place were just rumors, after all? Nothing seemed to be amiss, here, as far as I could see.

"All right, everybody!" Freddy announced, smiling down to the boy. "Let's all sing a Faz-tastic Happy Birthday for our special friend! Ready? Happy Birthday..."

The familiar song faded into the back of my mind as I stood, frozen in my astonishment. The new animatronics were extraordinary. They were so… _lifelike, _and they each had their own distinct personalities. Their movements and speech were smooth and refined, not jerky or awkward like most robots, nowadays - I could hardly tell they were robots at all. I mean, if no one had told me, I would have assumed they were just people in costumes. I guarantee you would, too. Whoever engineered them really outdid themselves, and I saluted them for it.

As I marveled at their handiwork, my unease with this job soothed into something equivalent of intrigue. I started to grow a little thrilled to possibly work nights, here.

But my thrill didn't last long. While I found myself lost in the song, someone tapped my shoulder, ripping me from my trance.

I whirled around to face a tall, thin man. He looked to be in his early forties, judging by the dark age lines drooping beneath his eyes. His pale skin starkly contrasted against the deep purple, collared shirt he was wearing, and he had a mess of thick, caramel-colored hair all pulled back into low a ponytail. Sparse stubble lined his sharp chin and jawline, clinging to his edged cheekbones.

For a few seconds, he peered down his nose at me with dark, nearly-black, brown eyes, distinctly twinkling in the lights of the restaurant. A vintage security cap weighed down his cowlick, shadowing his face, but what attracted my eye most was the golden badge glinting on his chest pocket, inscribed with his name in capital letters: VINCENT.

He smiled at me, and while a woman would have found it rather dashing, it was a tired, dreaded smile. A smile that made it seem like he wasn't excited to see me at all.

"Good evening, sir," he mused. Though weary, his voice rode slightly on the higher spectrum; I detected no vibrato in his tone at all. "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. You're, uh, lookin' a little lost to me. Are you here with the Harris party, or, can I help you find something? Bathrooms maybe? We've got soda machines, but you gotta pay for those."

I stared at him, anxiety for my interview churning my gut. Was this the guy I needed to see? I wasn't sure, but I had to play my cards right, regardless.

Clearing my throat, I spoke my clearest and looked him straight in his black, sparkling eyes. He didn't blink once - it was a little unnerving. "Uh, no, actually. I applied for the night guard job and I'm here for an interview with Mr. Cawthon. Could I talk to him, please?"

To my surprise, the man abruptly stiffened, his expression hard and lifeless. "Which one?" he asked, his voice flat.

Wasn't expecting that. "What? What do you mean?"

He repeated, with a bit of harsh, misplaced impatience fueling his words, "Which Mr. Cawthon? There's two of us." He aimed his finger at his chest. "I'm _Vince_ Cawthon. Did you need to see my brother _Scott _Cawthon?"

I stood there, blinking in silence like an idiot. Thinking back to the phone call earlier this afternoon, I vaguely remembered the woman on the other end telling me to ask for a Scott briefly, but she had addressed him as Mr. Cawthon for the majority of the call. I guess his name had slipped my mind as the day droned on.

I don't know about you, but I tend to stutter when I get nervous - it's an annoying quirk of mine. And for some reason, Vincent's sour attitude towards my request triggered my stuttering worse than a cute girl did. I actually started to feel a little threatened by his unpleasant, impatient demeanor.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't know there were two Mr. Cawthons," I stammered, bracing myself for something I couldn't foresee. My heart thudded heavily inside my chest as the lights in his eyes scorched holes in my face. "But y-yes, I need to speak with Scott. He's here, tonight, right?"

There was a heavy pause - only Freddy's distant laughter broke it. We stood, facing each other in an awkward silence.

Vincent's tone then improved somewhat, and he regained his lucidity, shifting his stance. His expression softened, and he smiled again. "'Course he is. The man practically lives here." Turning to the side, he said, "Wait here, okay? I'll be right back with him." With that, he swiveled on his heel, striding away behind the four tables before disappearing down a long hallway.

As soon as he had gone, a violent shiver tore through me, sending my teeth chattering. I can't tell you in enough detail how uncomfortable I felt while speaking to Vincent. Something about him made my veins squirm. His unnaturally pale skin, that toothy smile, his voice… the subtle shimmer in his cold, black eyes. _Errrrgh… _Bad vibes, man. He gave off an unsettling air, and it put me on edge.

But all of that only had me wondering… Who was he, exactly? And what was his problem?

My mind attempted to wander into another maze of fearful speculation, but not before I quickly diverted it away. I decided that I wasn't going to dwell on the whole Vincent thing - it probably wasn't a big deal. I mean, he could've just been tired from a long shift, or something, uncertain how to interact with someone like me. I didn't know what was going on in his life, anyway, so why should I let him ruin my night? I had to keep cool and collected. I had an interview to ace.

Letting that conversation go, I rotated my head back toward the stage. The song had ended without my noticing, and I found with amazement that the animatronics had actually left the stage and were beginning to interact with the party guests.

In the absence of the music, the room was considerably quieter, now. My ears rang above the subtle sounds of the restaurant as I watched the party from where I stood by the door.

An employee - also wearing a deep purple shirt - emerged from the hall, balancing a large tray of cupcakes on her shoulder. She carefully set them on a table next to Chica, backing away hastily as the animatronic proceeded to give them away. Chica was wonderfully sweet and motherly about it, especially with the younger ones, who absolutely adored her. They gathered around her like chicks to their mother hen, their arms outreached for the treats.

Meanwhile, Freddy seemed to be telling jokes to the adults, keeping them company while Bonnie let a few of the older kids play with his guitar as he handed out simple party favors. Whistles, pens, toys, rings, y'know. From what I could see, it looked like the shindig was coming to a close, which made sense, considering it was nine o'clock. Some of those kids were looking sleepy as they licked the pink frosting off of the cupcakes.

I really wanted one. Like, _really. _I literally caught myself stomach snarled up a storm, my hungry thoughts immersed in layers and layers of luscious cake before I forcefully reminded myself of why I was here. Looking away, I quickly read over my résumé a few times, practicing my interview lines in my head.

While in the middle of sifting through my words, I abruptly realized that I had been subconsciously tapping my toe to a cheery, music box-like melody tweeting behind me.

I hadn't noticed it before, what with all the noise, but while reading through my qualifications, my mind slowed. I lifted my head up mid-sentence, the ticking notes of the song pulling my mind away from the text and back into my memories.

I knew that tune - it was My Grandfather's Clock. Ironically enough, my own grandfather used to have an antique music box that played that same song. I clearly remembered listening to it while smearing crayons all over his coloring book collection as a kid.

With a faint smile, I turned around to see where the music was coming from.

Tucked into the farthest corner of the room was a small, secluded countertop, which I hadn't seen upon my first inspection of the pizzeria. A set of shelves stocked with plush toy versions of the animatronics, all with huge, bulging eyes, protruded from the wall behind it. Bright character posters, drawings and decorative pizza slices covered the confetti-print walls.

On the edge of the counter, next to a cash register, sat the music box, outfitted to look like a birthday present. Its polished silver crank slowly revolved on its side as it happily sung My Grandfather's Clock for all the room to hear.

The bubbly notes rose and fell in my ears, bringing me back to my grandfather's living room. But something then caught my eye, stirring me from my reveries: a dark cord running from the back of the box, falling down the counter before snaking across the floor into an enormous, teal gift box with purple trim.

I tilted my head in curiosity at the sight of it, my brows furrowing. It was huge, the box. I probably could've fit inside it with little effort. Oddly, a chill caressed the back of my neck the moment I laid eyes on it, goosebumps erupting all over my skin. Around my clacking teeth, I took a quick glance at the ceiling, noting that there weren't any air vents around. That fact only seemed to worsen my shivering, and my hair stood bolt upright. _Brrr… _Why was I so cold all of a sudden? And what was inside that behemoth of a box?

Despite my interest, I never had the chance to go over and investigate, for a loud burst of laughter pulled my attention away from the counter and back toward the party up front. I found the guests all in stitches over something Freddy had said - they were banging their hands on the tables and tossing their heads back as they roared in laughter. Whatever it was must've been pretty funny; even Bonnie and Chica giggled amidst their tasks.

Thankfully, due to their distraction, I noticed movement in the hallway behind them. Two figures emerged from out of the long hall, walking side-by-side, skirting around the party and to where I stood by the door, talking amongst themselves. Upon closer inspection, I found one of them to be Vincent, bringing along who I assumed was Scott.

Standing up straight, I prepared myself to make a great first impression for who could have been my new boss, but froze in my place the closer he came. With all of my pre-rehearsed introductions vanishing, I found myself staring in severe confusion between the two men, my mind grinding to make sense of what I was seeing.

The pair advancing leisurely toward me were _exactly_ alike. They each walked with an easy, laid-back gait, their shaggy, caramel-colored hair drifting behind them. The exposed alabaster skin from their faces, necks and hands leapt away from their rich purple shirts and black slacks. Gold badges glittered on their chests, and their gazes were zeroed in on me with hawk-like intensity.

I started sweating again upon seeing them. Upon seeing _him. _Vincent. There were _two_ of him.

But when they came to a stop in front of me, only one of him returned my smile, his pitch-black eyes strangely warm and welcoming as he took my hand firmly. I shook it, gripping his clammy hands while gazing emptily into his face, my thoughts piled up in a gridlock.

"Hello, hello, friend!" the Vincent I was shaking with greeted. "Good to meet you. I'm Scott, the Security Manager here at Freddy's. What's your name, son?"

...This was _Scott?_ I hesitated to reply for a second, my mind still trying to compute this phenomena. Okay, obviously, they were twins. Completely identical twins, and although it was extremely disorienting to see them next to each other, their subtle differences showed the longer I looked between them.

Scott had neater hair, and his face was clean-shaven. His voice was a carbon copy of Vincent's, which kinda threw me off. Scott, however, was a great deal more inviting. He was legitimately happy to see me, and his smile proved it. Their eyes were different, as well. Whereas Vincent's glinted with an odd, mysterious light, Scott's just radiated with warm hospitality and friendliness. I was drawn to him acutely.

I blinked away my confusion, correcting my slouch and locking eyes with him. Scott noticed my movements with a sly curve of his lip. "Uh, Jeremy Fitzgerald. Good to meet you too, sir. Thanks for taking the time to see me, tonight." I managed to crack out a smile, but due to my stupefaction, it wasn't my finest.

Scott, alongside Vincent, was several inches taller than I was (I'm a pretty tall guy), and he looked down his nose at me just like his brother did. He genuinely _smiled_ down at me, though, nodding with grace.

"No, no, thank _you_ for taking the time, Mr. Fitzgerald. We appreciate it." He then released my hand and stood back, taking Vincent by the shoulder. They both grinned similarly, putting their heads together. "Bet you didn't expect to see two of us, didja?"

I shook my head, bewildered. "Huh-uh. I thought I was seeing things for a second."

Scott gave a hearty laugh, clapping his brother on the shoulder. I thought I saw a flicker of a grimace cross Vincent's face, but it was fleeting. His onyx eyes burned once again.

"Eh, don't you worry about it, Jeremy," Scott dismissed. "We get it all the time - I mean, ever since we were kids. It's actually kinda fun to see the looks on people's faces wherever we go." Releasing Vincent, Scott folded his arms, beaming at his memories. "Ahh, that stuff never gets old… But anyway, enough about us. Let's talk about you. Uh, you were the one asking about the night guard position, right?"

Even after the surprise twin fiasco, my responses started coming back to me, my thoughts collecting. Thankfully, they came back fast. "Yes, sir. That was me," I replied, pressing my voice to banish my anxiety. "Is the position still available?"

My heart sang when he replied, "Darn right it is, bucko. We haven't found anybody we'd love to hire, yet, so we're still looking. Uh... our secretary told us you were _very_ interested in the job. You obviously saw the ad, so tell me, Jeremy, why do you think you should work here at Freddy's?"

This was it: the interview. This was what I had rehearsed for hours for. What I so desperately needed. What I had prepared myself mentally and physically for. I knew precisely what I was going to say - only the best, all enthusiastically, and leaving my subdued fears for the company out of the equation. Truly, this moment, while facing Scott and Vincent Cawthon would make or break my future.

At that exact moment, though, I wish I would have known the twisted hell this job had in store for me. But I didn't. I was completely ignorant of the gruesome potential of this job - criminally unaware of the darkness looming behind the Fazbear name. Man, if I would have known… I would give anything to fix this moment, now. I would do anything to go back and change my own mind…

Like a fool, I blindly sold myself to the fractured doom waiting, hungrily, for me at the end of the interview. Tonight, at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, my impending fate was staring me straight in the face.

And I had no idea.

Taking a deep breath, I began, "Well, when I was a kid, my parents would take me and my sisters to Freddy Fazbear's for all sorts of parties and things. We always had _tons_ of fun, and we'd beg them to go back for weeks. I think we went almost six times during June one summer - we kinda turned into regulars, there. Heh, heh..." Scott and Vincent both smiled at my story. I went on, "Anyway, I guess the franchise has always held a special place in my heart, and now that I'm older, I think I'd make a great addition to the company due to my history with it."

Scott nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds good to me. What, uh, qualifications do you have to be a reliable night guard?"

After handing him my résumé to look over, I didn't hesitate to tell him about my strengths. "Uh, I'm extremely responsible; I was always the one babysitting and taking charge, cooking dinner, even though I was the middle child. I can multitask really well, I'm a hard worker, did great in school, I've never crashed my car or been late for anything. I'm neat, efficient, and I'll stay focused. I'll do whatever you need me to do, and I'll do it fast." I paused, thinking over my next few words. "Plus, I _want _to work, here. Seriously. You have no idea."

Vincent raised a brow. He craned his head to the side, curious. "And why is that?"

I bit my lip, looking down at my baggy clothes, thinking of the skin and bones they were hiding. My mind then wandered to my pitiful living arrangements, my stomach twisting, reminding me of my poor nutrition and the empty fridge back at home.

My courage collapsed into something equivalent of humble admittance. I shrank beneath the gazes of the two men before me, helplessness consuming me. "I need this job," I murmured. "I'm running low on money, and it's getting hard to support myself… This place - you guys - are my only salvation." I ran my fingers through my hair. "If I don't get this job, well… I don't know what I'm gonna do… I can't go back home… There's no one else I can really go to."

My eyes hung low, embedded into the floor in my shame. A solemn silence, only broken by the faint clinking of the music box, weighed upon Scott, Vincent and me, lingering for several moments. It was almost tangible.

After what felt like a decade, Scott grabbed my attention as he spoke, lifting my eyes from the checkered tile. "How old are you, Jeremy?" he asked, his voice tender.

"Nineteen, sir. I'll be twenty on the eighth of next month."

He smiled broadly, folding my résumé in half. "Well, you'll be happy to know that we only hire applicants who are eighteen or older as night guards, here." I perked up slightly, grateful to hear that something was actually working for me for once. "And since most of the others who applied are still in high school, I'd say you're in good shape with us."

Some light filled my soul at that. If he was implying what I thought he was…

But my hope dissipated almost instantly when Scott raised his head, proclaiming aloud as he set a hand on my shoulder, "Well, I've seen all that I need to. I think we're done, here Mr. Fitzgerald."

Turning away from me, he left me standing there, flabbergasted, my mouth hanging open as he looked from me and to his brother. "Uh, Vince, think you could go and grab the new employee package from the office?" My heart stopped.

"We've just found our perfect fit."

* * *

**Ta-daaaah! What'd you think?! Hope it got you interested in the rest of the story. I did SO much homework preparing for the story so everything would make sense.**

**If you have any questions, thoughts, or cravings for more, you know where to find the PM button!**

**See you next chapter!**

**...if you dare!**


	2. Welcome to the Family

**Hey, hey, glad you came back for the second chapter! I promise, things are gonna be a lot more interesting this time! Ha ha!**

**Dude, I am SO EXCITED to upload this. I feel alive, y'know?! Ahh, this feels so good! I can't really describe how excited I am for this story to progress. I've been having so much inspiration as of late, you don't even know! **

**Anyway, here is chapter two of _No Strings Attached._ Hope you guys are liking it so far. Here's where we're gonna start seeing a bit of gameplay, and a few more things you may recognize. Just FYI, I wanted to make this story feel exactly like the game, so in the event that you haven't played it, you can totally feel like you are while reading this. And in addition, if you were working at this place. Hope I did the game justice... I certainly tried to capture how I feel whenever I play it. :)**

**But regardless, I'll stop talking. This chapter was going to incorporate a lot more in the final scene you'll read, but it was getting a little long, so I had to crop it. Thanks for being so patient with me, and I hope you enjoy it! Forgive me of any errors as well, thank you. As always, all credit goes to the fantastic Scott Cawthon. We love you, man!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

I couldn't believe it. For a solid six seconds - trust me, I counted - we all stood in our little huddle, where, at least for me, time had utterly stopped.

Both Scott and Vincent stood, watching me, patiently waiting to see my reaction to the news. But as for me? Well, forget about reacting, I was still trying to _absorb_ the words Scott had spoken. Slowly but surely, my brain picked them down from where they hung above our heads, processing them for my stupefied understanding.

_Did he just say what I think he said?! _I thought, my mind tripping on itself to find some sense of its bearings. _Perfect fit… I was their perfect fit...? _

In nothing but a heartbeat, my entire body had gone completely rigid, my muscles locking up. I stared - no, _gawked _\- into the face of my new boss and coworker beside him, jaw wide open, my eyes so huge they were starting to dry out.

I'll be honest, due my past interview experiences, I was half-expecting to be hustled out the door and never contacted again. I can't tell you how many times that happened… Just like the other managers I had spoken to, I thought Scott was gonna blow me off as another failed hire, but he was clever. He tricked me, and he tricked me good. After raising my hopes for a job, he fake-shut me down, ultimately bringing the news right around with a sneaky turn of words. And I totally fell for it.

Just as quickly as it had left, my shining hope returned, flooding my chest to the point that I could hardly breathe. I swayed on my feet, my legs as numb as my mental processing.

At the command of Scott, Vincent gave a short nod before slinking away to grab the new employee package. He left me gaping, still, at his brother as he turned to face me, beaming like a proud father.

My throat caught. "Are you… are you really gonna hire me?" I breathed, my voice faint and shaky.

Scott chuckled brightly. "Why wouldn't I? I know a great employee when I see one." Leaning down, he lowered his voice, motioning me to lean in closer as well. I did so. "Listen, I'll let you in on a little secret, okay? The second I saw you, I knew there was something different about you compared to the other kids I've interviewed. I can see it in your eyes - you're different. You're as real as can be, and that's a tough trait to find in people around here. I like that."

My tongue was turning into sandpaper, my mouth was _still_ open. I was outright speechless. No one, other than my mom, of course, had _ever_ said anything like that to me in my life. _Ever._ He had stricken me to my core.

But he didn't stop there. "I can already tell you're gonna be an amazing night guard, regardless if you've had experience with this sort of thing," he grinned, raising an eyebrow. Scott peered deeply into me, piercing my very soul, it seemed. "And trust me, in a town like this, I've seen all the sob stories those good-for-nothing punks come up with to get the job easy.

"Your story really hits home for me. I know for a fact that you're not faking your situation, Jeremy, because I've seen it before. My brother and I are no strangers to going broke. The old franchise actually saved us from getting kicked onto the street back in the day, if you'd believe it." He gestured around the restaurant. "Freddy's was our saving grace, too."

Scott then gripped my shoulder, reassuring me of his sincerity. He held me firm in his warm, sable gaze. "We know where you've been, Jeremy, and… maybe where you already are. I don't need to see anything more to tell that you legitimately need this job, and Freddy's is happy - heck, _I'm _happy - to give it to you. Simple as that."

I was floored. Wow. _Wow. _That was… pretty much all I could think. Wow. Standing stiff, dumbstruck, I struggled to breathe, totally at a loss for words.

After several moments of everything slowly sinking in, I finally blinked. My eyes started to water, stinging. "I…" I croaked, searching for my voice, only to find that it had wandered into the murky realm of my stunned gratitude. "I-I don't know what to say, Mr. Cawthon… I..."

Scott laughed again, folding up my résumé and slipping it into his pocket. "Well, _I'd_ say that a 'thank you' is in order, wouldn't you?" I nodded briskly, the movement shaking off my paralysis. "And, hey, from now on, don't call me _Mr. Cawthon. _That makes me feel old… Just call me Scott, okay? We can be on a first-name basis, can't we?"

A gradual smile split my frozen expression, spreading lucidity to the rest of my face. I released a relieved sigh as potent, euphoric fulfillment radiated throughout me from my gut, thawing out my icy limbs. With the newfound warmth, my blood revitalized - electricity began to jolt through me in ever-accelerating waves, spurring my rising ecstasy. But, not wanting to overreact, I kept it bottled up. I didn't wanna be _that _new employee, you know what I'm saying?

"Y-yeah, I can do that," I breezed, sifting through my hair with my fingers in awe. "Wow, thank you _so much, _Scott. I really can't thank you enough for this opportunity." My smile broadened till it strained my cheeks; he noticed with a happy snort. "This is the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long time. This changes everything… Thank you, _thank you! _I-I honestly can't believe it…!"

"Well, you'd better start believing, kid, 'cause you're officially hired." I forcibly held in a squeal of delight threatening to burst through my chest. Thankfully, he didn't notice. He scratched his head, thinking. "Of course, we can only add your name to payroll after you fill out a few things, but once you get those done, expect to see some green in your bank account by the end of the week."

My heart did a backflip at the sound of that. Can you imagine? _Green! _Finally, I could live like a civilized person again! I could start rebuilding my life, changing my dreadful norm into something I wouldn't have to tolerate. True, I couldn't start living large, but if Freddy's could get back my electricity and put edible food in my fridge, I was more than game for this. Heck, I'd work at Freddy's for the rest of my life!

But as Scott mentioned my pay, images of my dingy apartment and empty gas tank began to float through my mind, reminding me of what I would be returning to after this. Knowing that, I couldn't help but grow curious as to how much I would be receiving.

I thought back to the first time I saw the job listing in the newspaper. The pizzeria's wages were printed on the ad - I knew they were. I could almost _see_ them in my mind, all circled in red, laying on my kitchen table. But no matter how much I strained my brain, I couldn't for the life of me remember what the newspaper ad said. It was aggravating.

Now, I knew that asking about wages was almost always a death sentence during job interviews, but I just couldn't ward off my curiosity; nor could I wait to check the paper at home. Besides, I'd already been hired, so… I went for it. I asked him.

Peeking at Scott sheepishly, my ears burned as I wondered, "I hate to ask this, but… how much will that be exactly?"

Surprisingly, he brushed off my embarrassment with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Hey, you deserve to know. Don't worry about it. Well, uh, how's about I start you off at minimum wage - three thirty-five an hour, y'know - uh, you'll work six hours a night, and after five nights you'll make a nice hundred dollars, fifty cents. Uh, I might even give you a raise if you work hard enough after a few weeks. Sound good to you?"

My stomach plummeted into the floor with a breath-catching splat, I was so blown away. _One hundred dollars and fifty cents!?_ Now, that may not mean much to you, but to someone as destitute as me, it was glorious godsend. I could eat comfortably for a month with that. And with a possible raise? I would be set. _More than set._ This seemed almost too good to be true. I nearly pinched myself, I thought I was dreaming.

I didn't wait for him to change his mind, quickly securing the deal with a strong nod. "Definitely! I-I'll take it. Thank you so much!" My pulse raced at the numbers, sending my stomach twisting eagerly at the numerous lifestyle improvements serenading my thoughts. I couldn't wait to get started. I could already tell that things were going to improve astronomically for me from here on out.

Looking above my head, Scott tucked his hands into his pockets, sighing with relief. He looked even happier than before, his posture lighter, almost as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Briefly, I wondered why. "Great! That's just great, uh, let's see, now… We got that done…" His brows furrowed as he lost himself in thought, searching through the floor tiles. "Is there anything else I need to tell you before we get you started? Hm…"

"How about giving the kid_ this_, first, Scott?" a familiar voice called from behind us.

Both of us cast our gazes over his shoulder to find Vincent, strolling up to meet us from his task. Clutched in his pale hand was a pair of folded, purple, collared shirts, and on top of them sat a vintage security cap. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was bringing me my uniform. He held the hat down by the brim with his thumb as he approached, coming to a stop beside his twin.

He handed the bundle to Scott, his eyelids low. "Don't forget his uniform and paperwork. He can't be an official guard without either one of 'em, remember?" he mumbled.

"Hey, I knew that," Scott replied, a tinge of playful hostility tainting his tone. Smiling, he took the shirts, locking their eyes together. But it wasn't a smile I recognized on him: it was heedless. Prideful, even. His gaze was less than friendly, too. It was… more challenging than pleasant. "You don't have to remind me. _You're_ not the Security Manager, now, are you, Vince?"

I took my chin back when Vincent proceeded to groan and roll his eyes, turning his cheek and scowling into a bundle of balloons in the corner. A subtle shadow darkened Scott's usually-amiable expression at the gesture. He stared blankly into his brother's ponytail, his smile faltering into a frown.

As I watched them, I raised a brow, questions brewing. Perhaps, in some way or another, I was witnessing a bit of adult sibling rivalry between Scott and Vincent? It certainly showed… I had always appreciated competition, but I wasn't so sure that I liked being around _this;_ the aura radiating from Vincent was caustic.

What was going on between these two?

I never got the chance to think too deeply on it, for their moment didn't last long. Scott's frown instantly righted itself the moment he pulled his eyes away from Vincent and to me. "All right, Jeremy…" he began merrily, acting as if nothing had happened.

Extending his arm, he eased the pair of shirts and hat into my awaiting hands. Their material - that same rich purple - was stiff and stainless, faintly smelling of old washing detergent and something else I couldn't identify. "Here are your uniforms. Make sure to wear the shirt, the tie, the hat and some black pants every night you work. No jeans. At all. Uh, wear black dress shoes, too, okay? They should be comfortable, y'know. Something you can work in."

I nodded. "Okay."

He paused, shrugging. "Now, I know this is kinda strict, and that nobody else's gonna really see you during your shift, but formal attire _is_ required by the company, so… yeah. As dumb as it is to dress up nice for six hours of nothing, you're just gonna have to go with it. Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. No worries. I don't mind."

"Awesome! Hey, look at you!"

As he listed everything, I began searching through the pile. Sure enough, I found a thin black tie wedged between the two shirts, along with a few sheets of blank paperwork hidden beneath the hat for me to fill out. I didn't stop to read them; the moment I lifted the hat, the object sitting on top of them drew in my attention acutely.

It was polished, pristine, its golden surface unscratched and smooth. The shiny, reflective coating of the security badge winked beautifully in the lights of the restaurant, mesmerizing me. Beneath the blank nameplate at the top were engraved the words: FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT SECURITY, all above the sculpted face of the original Freddy Fazbear occupying the badge's front. If I looked hard enough, I could faintly see my own reflection within the carved face of Freddy. My eyes seemed to combine with his.

Scott caught me staring at it. "Now _that, _Jeremy, is your golden opportunity, right there. That's what'll make you one of us."

His words resonated with me. I dunno about you, but, something about being a part of a group filled me with a sense of honor, since I'd been so isolated, poor and lonely for so long. My lungs swelled with it, accelerating my heartbeat and spiking my eagerness.

Prying my eyes off of it, I looked up to him, and subsequently, Vincent, who had managed to turn back to face me. Both of their badges seemed to gleam brighter as I looked between them, urging me to become just like them. Amazed by something so simple, I took it up in my hand, gripping it tightly.

Scott then enticed me with several choice words I would never forget, "Take it with pride, son. Wear it with pride. With that badge on your chest, you'll be a part of the new face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." He threw his hands up. "Hey, what could go wrong?"

Well, I couldn't argue with that. Giddiness bubbled up in my chest, overshadowing my hidden fears for the company. Whether my paranoia liked it or not, this guy was more than ready to be a part of Freddy's. My _bank account_ was more than ready. Closing my fingers around the badge, I returned Scott's beaming grin with my own, nodding. "Nothing, as long as I'm the night guard. Let's do it," I affirmed, endeavoring to hold back my explosive exhilaration.

Scott did the same, reaching his hand out to shake for a final time, laughing aloud as he did. "Ha ha ha! That's what I like to hear! Welcome to the family, Jeremy!" he congratulated, smiling as brightly as ever. I gladly slapped my hand on his, grasping it with newfound strength, shaking it like I had a purpose. Which, I kinda did, now. "We're delighted to have you."

Man, the phone call, the interview, this moment… they all came full circle. For the first time in a little over a year, I had a legitimate, paying job. _Finally_, I had a job! Me! It was all so surreal, and yet so groundbreaking at the same time. I soared on cloud nine, struggling to subdue the fiery thrill of employment blazing in my gut. I literally could not stop smiling; my face was starting to go numb.

"No kidding! Ha ha! So, uh, when can I start?" I blurted.

Scott's eyebrows hit the ceiling. "Ahh, see, now we're talking!" He grinned to Vincent, who replied with a fake curl of his lip. "I like this kid! He's got initiative!" Scott came back to me, visibly excited. "Well, Jeremy, that all depends on you, now. When are you available, son?"

I shrugged, thinking over my schedule, which, as of right now, was entirely empty in the absence of my job-hunting escapades. "Whenever. I am totally free. I'd like to get to work as soon as possible, if I could."

The conversation lulled as Scott and Vincent proceeded to exchange looks for several moments. Scott shrugged - Vincent mirrored it. They both pursed their lips and raised their brows at the same time, mentally coming to an agreement in perfect silence.

Eventually, Scott turned, tilting his head to the side, prompting, "How about tonight?"

My heart flipped. The question caught me a little off guard (pun intended), but hey, I did say as soon as possible, didn't I? "Really? Tonight?" I stammered, amazed by the offer. "Are you sure? I mean, I-I'll do it, but that means I'll be coming in on a Sunday… and isn't this place closed on Sundays?"

"Oh, no, don't worry, it is," Scott reassured, shaking his head. "We never schedule guards on Sundays, but Vince and I thought that since you wanted to work ASAP, a quiet shift might help ease you into things? Nobody will come in or out of the building at all - it'll be really simple." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We're planning on scheduling you every day next week, too, so we thought that tonight'd be a good night to get you trained up and ready. What do you think?"

Hey, made sense to me. I wasn't worried about my Sunday being "jeopardized." Not at all. I mean, all I really did was nap and watch cartoons on Sundays. What was a graveyard shift to add to the roster? After all, I'd have the rest of the day to myself.

"Oh! H-hey, yeah, that works! I'll do it. Tonight should be perfect." I nodded, tucking my new shirts close to my chest, holding them tight. Butterflies flickered around in my stomach - I was starting to get anxiously nervous for my first shift. It would certainly be a new experience for me.

To my surprise, the two men before me suddenly relaxed, slouching and smiling together. Their combined relief confused me, but maybe it was just nice to have some new blood? I didn't know.

"All right, awesome! Hey, it'll be great, just you wait," Scott encouraged, giving me a thumbs up. "You'll be a pro in no time. Actually, uh, now that you're on board, you'll be doing Vince here a favor; he hasn't had a night off in a decade, at least." He patted his brother's back. "Poor guy's been a guard without fail ever since the franchise got a reboot."

I gasped, my eyebrows skyrocketing. A _decade? _Maybe that was why the man was so crabby. Then again, I wouldn't blame him if that were the reason. But as I thought on that fact, I began to worry if I was going to end up just like him… Hopefully not.

Vincent stretched his long arms, blissful solace soothing those dark rings beneath his eyes. He sighed as his back cracked sharply. _"Oh! _Mmm, baby, am I sleeping in _so hard_ next week..." He flashed me another smile, his eyes shimmering keenly. "Ahhh…Thanks, kid. I owe you one."

"N-no problem," I stuttered, returning his smile feebly. Don't get me wrong, I was glad to help a brother out, but man, he still gave me the creeps. Sniffing, I reverted my attention to Scott. "So, uh, do I need to bring anything with me when I come in?"

He shook his head casually. "Nothing but you, the uniform on your back and your filled-out paperwork. That's it. Don't worry about clocking in; we'll log down your hours until we get you a timecard." Sudden realization dawned on his face, his eyes igniting. "Oh! We need to get your keys, too! Let's go take care of that before we forget. C'mon, follow me."

Scott was about to move when he was stopped by a commotion up front - a loud chorus of shuffling, scraping and chattering voices. Several goodbyes drifted through the air, both from robotic voices and not. It seemed like the party had broken up, resulting in a large, slow procession of people beginning to pass by, thereby blocking Scott's route.

A thick stream of parents from the party, each of them towing their bleary-eyed kids by the hand, drifted beside us, heading for the door. Only, not all of them left immediately. Instead, several approached the lone countertop behind us. I noticed with intrigue that each of them had in their hands various tickets and tokens, all at the ready to present to the perky employee behind the register.

Scott's momentum ground to a halt as he waited for the crowd to pass, but as he watched them go by, his attention ended up at the countertop. Vincent and I wound up watching it as well.

The man at the head of the rapidly-forming line slapped a few handfuls of tickets onto the countertop, asking his yawning daughter what toy she wanted. She pointed a tiny finger to a chubby Chica plush doll, its large, lavender eyes slightly askew in two directions.

Curiously, when the employee plucked the toy off the shelf, he didn't hand it to the little girl directly. Instead, he grabbed a small, white box from under the counter and placed it inside, wrapping it up and tying the package closed with a neat crimson bow. He then knelt, disappearing under the counter, all but for his hands, reaching for the side of the oversized gift box in the corner.

I observed intensely, my fascination with the box overcoming me once more. With amazement, I watched as the employee opened a hidden latch on the box, sliding the present into it before popping right back up, all the while smiling much too widely at the father and daughter.

That saccharine smile remained on his face as he dragged the tweeting music box across the countertop, offering it to them. "All righty, guys," he exclaimed, jovial enthusiasm brightening his words. "Go ahead and spin the handle on my box here back a few times - you'll be in for a surprise!"

They did as he trilled, cranking the handle back. Abruptly, My Grandfather's Clock stopped chirping, which was jarring, considering how subtly prominent it had been, before. The song was immediately replaced by a tinkling, high-pitched version of POP! Goes the Weasel, the notes galloping out of the box at a million miles an hour. Everybody in the room turned, alarmed, in unison to the enormous gift box as it started to jostle. Something was kicking around inside it.

My heart leapt into my throat when the POP! of the song sent a tall, spindly figure exploding out of the box, showering confetti on the scene in front of the counter. Amidst the squeals and cheers from the crowd, I stared, slightly shocked at the thing that had emerged from the box, wondering just what on earth it was.

It resembled a humanoid Jack-in-the-box clown as it bounced up and down, almost as if it were fixed on a pogo stick. Its pair of slitted, empty black eyes in its porcelain white mask peered down to the little girl. Its voice, a singsong, childlike drone, drifted from the hollows of its gaping black grin, purring, "I have a present for you!"

The thing's wistful, calm voice sent eerily-familiar chills down my spine. My hair rose again.

It held out the present for the girl to take, its long, slender arms nearly reaching the floor. The thing was entirely pitch black, its stark darkness only broken by the trio of white buttons on its chest and the stripes linings its wrists. Just like Chica, Freddy and Bonnie, this mysterious, gangling figure had crimson, blushed cheeks, and in addition, what looked like lipstick puckered in the center of its mouth.

Ice crept into my stomach, shooting goosebumps over my skin. I'm not gonna lie to you: that thing was freakin' _terrifying. _I'm surprised the little girl didn't start crying out of sheer fear at the sight of it, but since it was giving her a present, I guessed that overruled. As perturbing and out-of-place as the thing was, it was the marks running down from its eyes that sent _my_ fear spiraling. They looked like purple tears, stained into its face.

Unfazed, the girl took the gift from it with glee, tearing it open. After revealing her toy, she dropped the box and snuggled it, looking up into the face of the thing happily. "Thanks, Mr. Puppet!" she giggled, holding her dad's neck as he swept her up and marched them both out the door.

Even after they had left, I couldn't take my eyes off of it, for some reason. The Puppet? That was that thing's name? I shuddered, but it actually seemed appropriate. But was that its only purpose in the pizzeria? to give out those creepy little plush toys? Compared to the other animatronics, that thing didn't belong here. It was so… different.

It wasn't natural.

As the line inched forward, and the employee began taking tickets again, I watched in horror as the Puppet slowly looked past the people before it, rotating its head toward Scott, Vincent and me with each bounce. Scott flinched in the corner of my eye, backing out of my line of sight. I nearly cowered back into him when it waved its hand for us to come closer, singing, "Step right up, everybody, and get your due prizes! But only if you're lucky!"

And for only a split second, I could have sworn that I saw a pair of tiny, white lights spark to life within the Puppet's empty eye sockets. But they disappeared as soon as I blinked, making me wonder if I had seen them at all.

Scott suddenly jerked to face me, turning his back on the counter. I somehow managed to rip my gaze from the Puppet and onto him, only to find his typical smile missing from his face. I stared. There was no color in his face, no emotion. He looked totally drained, petrified, his eyes huge and slightly bloodshot. Sweat trickled down his temple. If I focused on him hard enough, I was pretty sure that I saw the man _shaking._

"Hey, l-listen, I gotta go…" he spluttered, his eyes darting here and there nervously. His voice, stale and stiff, trembled harshly; he was difficult to understand. "Vincent will give you y-your keys, ok-kay? Uh… come in at midnight, go to the back office, I-I'll give you a call and train you. No worries. S-see you on the flipside."

And with that, he wiped his forehead and took off toward the long hallway, banging his knee on the carousel in his mad disappeared before I had the chance to collect myself and thank him again.

Vincent and I stared after him, our jaws open. We only broke our trances when he exhaled loudly, swearing under his breath. "Hoo, Scotty, Scotty…" he sighed. Coming around to face me, he began, "Uh… Jeremy..." It seemed like a chore for him to say my name. "There's not much else you gotta do, so just, uh, go home for now, fill out those papers, and come back in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay, yeah." I bit my lip, my head still swirling from the events of the night. "But... do I still need my keys?"

Vincent blinked, pinching his nose. "Yeah. Um… Here, take mine. I'll use the spares in the office." He unhooked a small wad of copper keys from a carabiner on his belt loop, plopping them into my hand. "Here. Now, the only key _you_ need to worry about is the key to the outside doors, which is _this_ one," he said, pointing out the largest key on the ring. "Don't lose it."

A short blip of silence passed as he thought to himself, rubbing his neck. "Uh, when you come in, make sure the front door stays locked until you leave. You are _not _allowed to exit the building until your shift is over. Nothing in, nothing out, you get me?"

I nodded, briefly wondering why he said _nothing _instead of _no one_.

He then took a quick survey of the room, frowning at the chaotic party aftermath. It looked like a bomb had gone off, over here. Near the stage, Bonnie, Chica and Freddy all stared blankly into the mess, not sure of what to do.

"...Technically, I _should_ show you around the place, but you'll see everything through your camera feeds, tonight, so… I'm not gonna." He quickly added, "Don't tell Scott."

"Er… all right." We both fidgeted on our feet, another awkward moment of silence hovering between us. I hesitated for quite some time before asking reverently, "Is that everything I need, then?"

To my surprise, his onyx eyes suddenly glittered as a thought graced him. Straightening, he glanced between a table behind him and me, lifting a finger to stop me from leaving. "Actually, one last thing…" Without warning, he strode off toward the table, grabbing a sheet of paper off of its corner. Upon coming back to meet me, he handed it over with an astonishingly genuine smile on his lips. "Take these, too. You look like you could use 'em."

In my hand, all glossy and with tear-away edges, was a six pack of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza coupons.

My eyes widened, my stomach beginning to rumble as I skimmed through each of them. These were all for free large pizzas, 6-liter sodas, ice cream cakes, prize tokens… the whole enchilada. My blood froze at the sight of them.

For a minute, I could've sworn I was looking at Scott, not Vincent. I mean, he was acting so differently from the cold, off-putting man I had met when I first came in. For some odd reason, he was actually being _nice_ to me, which was great and all, but still like felt like a punch in the gut. Just who was this guy?

Vincent raised his hand to his mouth, saying in a low voice, "Consider those what I owe you for taking my shifts, but don't tell Scott about 'em either, got it? I'm not supposed to give them out to employees." He raised an eyebrow, ingraining his motives into me.

"I won't. Thanks…" I murmured, amazed by his sudden generosity. "Thanks a lot."

But, just as quickly as his kindness came on, it waned with the arrival of his unnerving smirk. His eyes sharpened; he became Vincent again in a heartbeat. "Don't mention it, kid. Seriously. Now scram!" he barked. "We've got cleaning up to do."

With a light push to my shoulder, he sent me stumbling back toward the door. Thankfully, I didn't drop anything or run into anybody. Once I had regained my footing, I held my new belongings close, tucking my keys under the hat before taking in a deep breath.

With one last look around the pizzeria, I maneuvered my way through the crowd and out the door, tension and eagerness roiling in my stomach.

As I made my way to the car, a spring in my step, my grand smile returned, dominating my face. With my heart pumping at light speed, I wasn't so sure I could wait until midnight. That was _three whole hours_ away. And although the Puppet thing had freaked me out (I purposely averted my eyes from it as I left), I was anxious to start working. At least I knew what to avoid while I was on the clock. I'd never look at that oversized box again… _Urgh… _That _thing… _

But at the same time, a sense of the unknown had me on edge, making me shiver in the cool night. I honestly didn't know what I to expect when midnight arrived, neither was I sure exactly as to what I would be doing during my shift. Y'know, besides guarding the place, of course. The details of the job had been glazed over during my interview; I was kind of flying into this gig blind. A pang of nervousness bled into my anticipation at that.

But then again, just how hard could a night guard job be?

...I would find out soon enough.

* * *

"Okay, okay," I whispered to myself, going through my checklist one last time. "Paperwork…" Reaching into the passenger seat, I felt around blindly in the darkness, finally locating them and setting the sheets into my lap. Next, I took a breath in through my nose, my face scrunching at the musty, soapy smell emanating from my shirt and hat. "Uniform, yeah, yeah…" I placed a hand on my shirt pocket. The cold surface of the badge tingled my fingertips. "Okay, I've got you… Keys…?" With a quick dandle, I fingered through them to find the one I needed, gripping it firmly.

I released a relieved sigh. Fortunately, I hadn't left anything at home. "All right. We're all set." Raising my gaze through the windshield, I looked out onto the deserted parking lot, drenched in shadows.

Thankfully for me, midnight had arrived rather quickly. My anticipation and I couldn't have waited a second longer as soon as the time came around. You should've seen me. In my eagerness, I ended up leaping into my car, blasting like a maniac through the desolate streets and a red light (hey, nobody saw me!) before skidding crookedly into a stall.

Despite my unbridled excitement for the coming night, I nervously chewed my lip. My gas tank worried me. Hopefully I'd have enough fuel to make it back home after my shift was over... The drooping needle on the tank gauge lurked in the back of my mind, nagging at me.

Casting my eyes up the hill, I set aside my worries, finally facing the dark, blocky silhouette of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. In the failing light of a flickering flood lamp nearby, the building appeared whitewashed, haunted, its windows black and empty. I gulped. The place was _extremely_ unsettling now that everyone had gone, rocking the foundations of my eagerness. Goosebumps sprouted under my skin, but I didn't dare let my mind wander, knowing fully well that I could easily psych myself out of this. My imagination certainly carried that potential.

Swallowing my fear, I opened my door, gathered my paperwork and courage, and got out of the Bronco.

I almost dropped dead upon getting out, my courage scattering, my excitement melting into discomfort. For a moment, I seriously thought that I'd gone deaf. The silence around me was _disturbing._ It hung, heavy and low like an impenetrable, eternal fog. I could have sworn my heart pounded aloud like a drum, every one of my short, startled breaths a screaming hurricane.

Knowing me, it didn't take long for my vibrant fears to take possession of every fiber of my body. My eyes flitted left and right, barely adapted to the inky darkness, wary of how alone I truly was. With my paranoia running rampantly, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was surrounded by an invisible horde of watchful eyes, all of them bearing straight down on me from the sanctity of their shadows.

Who - or _what_ \- was out there? And what did they want from me? I wasn't really a fighter, but I was a fast runner. I could definitely hide if something went wrong. But I couldn't cower in my car all night... I had a job to do. Scott had entrusted me with this. _I had to do this. _As much as the thought unnerved me, if something was really out here with me, Freddy's was my only sanctuary from it… whatever it was.

I focused on the door to the building, my mind and pathway set. With frightened jitters already starting to jolt my limbs, my fight or flight instincts kicked in in full force. My legs ached as I took a slow survey around me, eyes peeled for movement. Nothing.

Time to move. I held my hat down and clamped my keys and paperwork tight in-hand before breaking into a dead sprint across the lot.

My keys jangled aloud, my quick, slapping steps echoing sharply along the lot. My adrenaline was pumping so fast I leapt the stairs in a single bound, barrelling down the pavement without brakes. I threw my head over my shoulder, bracing myself for anything.

Before I could stop myself, I crashed headlong into the double doors, my badge clanking harshly against the glass. If anybody was out there, they would've heard my spectacular _smack_ without a doubt.

The windows rippled from the impact - my nose left behind a greasy smudge in the center of the glass. After peeling my face off the door, I struggled to compose myself, trying to even out my breathing while fumbling around with my keys. It was a miracle that I managed to shove the key into the lock, twist it, and haul the door open all before my lungs exploded out of my chest.

Once inside the pizzeria, I whipped around, gasping, slamming the door shut and locking it without a moment's hesitation. My blood blazed through my veins, a bead of sweat trickling down from my scalp as I peered through the windows at the cavernous black void outside. Empty. Nobody around - not out there, and not in here.

In hindsight, I realize had _really_ overreacted, but at the very least, I was safe. I was alone.

Or so I thought.

Laying a hand on my chest, I gradually calmed myself down, shakily attaching my keys to my belt loop and sweating off my fears. After my pulse had ceased pummeling my eardrums, it took me a second or two to realize that the deafening silence outside hadn't followed me into the pizzeria. My ears rang slightly at the sound of the soft, clinking notes drifting through the stale air - notes I recognized with both warm nostalgia and fear.

My Grandfather's Clock…?

I stopped cold, catching my breath. My eyebrows scrunched. _Wait a minute... _I thought. _Why would they keep the box playing if the place is closed? That doesn't make any sense... _

Baffled, I rotated my head to my right, laying eyes on the now-darkened countertop a short distance away. The prize corner's various colorful decorations and toys were now monochromatic in the darkness, making the place look entirely different. A dim, solitary light from the ceiling faintly illuminated the countertop and shelf, the light reflecting off the eyes of a Freddy plush toy propped up against the music box.

But everything else was swallowed in thick shadow. No matter how much I squinted, I couldn't make out the enormous gift box at all, let alone the bizarre, terrifying creature it housed. The hair on my arms stood up at the thought, but, maybe it was for the best? I mean, the less I saw of that thing, the better.

Another shudder snaked through me, pulling me away from my anxieties with that haunting box and toward my task at hand. I shook off my tension and swiveled on my heel to face the familiar setting of the main entrance.

Only, just like the prize counter, it wasn't as familiar as I thought it would look after hours. Now that the lights were off, the place was gloomy and grey, the bright, welcoming colors muted. A few lights here and there lit up some spots on the checkered floor, but for the most part, it was all just a dark, still abyss.

I carefully reverted my eyes towards the stage, where Bonnie, Chica and Freddy stood, frozen, staring emptily into a far wall across the restaurant. The spotlight above them cast stark shadows into their eyes and mouths, removing the vibrant, inviting glow from their faces.

I clenched my jaw. I'll admit that I found it a little sad to see them so… lifeless, especially after watching their exuberant performance earlier. But I supposed that even robots needed some time off. They couldn't be entertainers if there wasn't anybody around to entertain, right?

With that in mind, I readjusted my hat, held my paperwork close, and took my first steps beyond the entrance and into the pizzeria. The notes of My Grandfather's Clock grew fainter the further I walked away. As I passed by Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica, I found myself almost tiptoeing, self-conscious of the volume of my own footsteps, almost like I was afraid I'd wake them up.

Pressing on, I left them behind me, slightly curious as to why I would start thinking that. They were offline for the night. Robots didn't _wake up._

_Get a hold of yourself, Jeremy, _I scolded.

Despite the puddle of anxiety pooling in my gut, I proceeded into the maw of the long, pitch-black hallway with courage from seemingly nowhere, keeping one hand on the wall. As I drifted along, my fingers rubbing against the bumpy wallpaper, I tried not to think about the twisted fantasies marauding in the back of my mind.

Something then caught my eye a little further along around a corner: the beckoning light of what I assumed was the back office Scott had referred to. Nervous, I pushed my feet a little harder, eager to get out of the dark and into some place more well-lit and pleasant.

I smiled, sweet relief washing over me as I turned the corner, catching my first glimpse of the office. Breaking into a brisk jog, I hurried toward the warm light radiating from the room at the end of the hall, fleeing from the darkness, only slowing my pace as I entered.

To my delight, the office was a bright, spacious, high-ceilinged room, equipped with a small desk in the back, promotional posters and children's drawings on the walls, and more glittering trinkets dangling near the solitary lamp illuminating the place. An antique clock hung above the desk, peacefully ticking.

The air smelled faintly of cheese and yeast when I walked in - I deduced the source to be the stack of soggy pizza boxes beside one of the table's legs. My stomach turned at the sight of them, and even more so once I spotted the soda cup standing on the top box. I secretly hoped that they were for me. I was starving.

Without a second glance behind me, I approached the desk, finally noticing a rolling office chair awaiting my occupation. I didn't hesitate to sit myself down, pulling the chair up, squirming to try to get comfortable. The chair's cushions weren't the softest things in the world, but I distracted myself from them by surveying the objects on my desk.

First and foremost, there sat a fan, reverently whirring and blowing cool air into my face. It felt nice, considering how much I'd been sweating, before. Beneath the fan laid a device that I can only describe as a flat, miniature monitor, with twelve buttons flanking its sides, all labeled with numbers. A long, thick cord ran from the back of it, across the desk and onto the floor before feeding into two huge heaps of small, blank TVs crammed into the corners of the room.

At the farthest edge of the desk, opposite the fan, sat a polished, red landline phone, and resting against that, a long, black flashlight. Intrigued, I picked the flashlight up, aiming its end toward the yawning black pit that was the doorway and flicking it on. The light only _just_ penetrated the darkness. I frowned and set it down. Some use that thing was.

Now seated and ready for a long night, I gave in to my curiosity, reaching down toward the pizza boxes and taking up the soda cup in my hand. Liquid sloshed around inside it, but, not knowing whether or not anybody had drank from it, I used it to hold down my paperwork and set it on the desktop.

I refocused on the pizza boxes, only then noticing a large, furry brown mound sitting behind them. Upon closer inspection, I discovered it to be a disembodied Freddy Fazbear head, eyeless and empty on the floor. My brain strained itself to figure out why it was there in the first place. I only had the time to curiously touch the tip of its ear before an abrupt blaring from the phone nearly scared me out of my chair.

It pains me to admit, but I let out a squeak of alarm at the sound. It just about shattered the silence, the obnoxious ringing only stopping when I answered it. As I lifted the receiver to my ear, I had a feeling I knew who it was.

"Uh, hello? Hello, hello?" a familiar, peppy voice asked. "Uh, hello, is this Jeremy?"

"Yeah, it's me," I replied.

"Hey, Jeremy, it's Scott. How's it going over there?"

"Uh, not too bad, I guess. I mean, I just got here, so, nothing to report, really."

"Yeah, that's fine. There's usually nothing to report, anyway. Um… Hey, sorry about bolting, earlier. Something… came up… But I'm calling to train you, now, and hopefully get you pumped for this new and exciting career path, okay? I won't hang up until we're finished."

"Okay, great." I fidgeted around, trying to get myself as comfortable as I could, knowing that he'd probably be talking for a while.

I listened intently as he began, "Now, I know we didn't tell you too much about what you should expect to see during your shift, so again, that's why I'm here. This job is really nothing you need to stress or worry about. Uh, all you really gotta do is watch those camera feeds on your monitor, and that's it. Y-you see all those buttons on it?"

I took the device up in my hand. "Uh-huh."

"Okay, all of those buttons correspond to a matching camera located somewhere in the building. Go ahead, give it a go while I talk." I did so, turning the monitor on and flipping through camera feeds. I hadn't noticed the cameras themselves as I walked through the pizzeria, so it was interesting to see where they all were monitoring. Most of them were difficult to see, though, due to the static plaguing the screen and the darkness of the rooms.

"If you'd like to get a better look at some of those screens, y'know, 'cause they're a little dark, then press the white button on the side," Scott pointed out. "That'll activate the flashlights built into the cameras."

I tested it out on the one feed I couldn't seem to flip away from - the prize corner - and lo and behold, the button shed light directly onto the creepy gift box. My eyes widened. That was the absolute _last_ thing I wanted to see, tonight. Another chill darted down my spine.

"Okay, cool," I responded around my chattering teeth.

He didn't say anything for a few moments, pausing. "Um, I don't know if Vince told you, or not, but you won't just be watching empty cameras all night, Jeremy. Uh, tonight, you might be by yourself, but... you're not alone," Scott said, his voice taking on a grim edge.

"Wait, w-what do you mean by that?!" I almost dropped the monitor in my panic, my heart smashing against my ribs suddenly. I clenched the thing, staring horrified into the prize corner video feed, my mind reeling with his words. _"What?!"_

"Now, don't freak out," he quickly stammered. "I-I didn't mean to scare you, son. I'm just saying that you're in there with the animatronics, that's all. Heh, you've got nothing to worry about. Just keep in mind that while our characters are extremely advanced, they do have a few… kinks."

"O-okay, but w-what does that mean?" I whimpered, switching over to the show stage feed, warily eying the trio huddled in the darkness. I didn't dare light them up, for fear they'd all be looking straight at me.

"Well, from what Vince has told us - but I personally don't believe it - he claims that, uh, the animatronics moved around at night, and they even tried to get into his office." My stomach sank. I suddenly didn't like this at all. But then again, maybe Vince was just trying to scare me... Wouldn't put it past him.

Scott resumed, "But from what we know, that should be impossible. Uh, that restaurant should be the safest place on Earth - heck, we should be paying them to guard you." My jaw clenched; that wasn't the least bit comforting. "Anyway, while our engineers don't have an explanation for this, the working theory is that… the robots were never given a proper _night mode_. So, uh, when it gets quiet, they think they're in the wrong room, so then they go try to find where the people are, and in this case, that's your office."

"So what do I do, then?"

"You know the music box over by the prize counter?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, that's our temporary solution: we've rigged that little box to be wound up remotely, so no need for you to get up. We do keep it wound throughout the day, but it should start winding down in a few hours, so keep that in mind. Uh, there's a special button for that on your monitor, right at the top, but it only works when you're viewing the prize counter video feed." I flipped to the dreaded feed in question, smashing my finger on the windup button. I didn't care if it was wound down or not.

He went on, oblivious to what I was doing, "So just, every once in a while, switch over to it and wind it up for a few seconds. It'll display how much it's been wound up, too, which is good. That way, things over there stay quiet, like they should. Now, the music box doesn't seem to affect all of the animatronics, but it does affect… one of them." He cleared his throat, cutting off my chance to clarify which one. "Uh, and as for the rest of them, we've got an even easier solution! We've given you an empty Freddy Fazbear head. I dunno if you saw it..."

I looked down toward it, my questions answered. "I did, but what is it for? What solution?"

"Uh, since Vince says that the robots tried to get into the office, he also thinks that, uh… You see…" He paused, searching for his words. He then proceeded to speak rather quickly, his voice strangely muffled. "There, uh, may be a minor… glitch in the system, something about robots seeing you as an endoskeleton without his costume on, and wanting to stuff you into a suit…"

My eyebrows skyrocketed. _"What?!" _

"Hey, but don't worry!" Scott blurted. "Don't worry at all! That Freddy head will mess with the robots' facial scanners - they'll think you're one of them! Problem solved! Heh!"

"...Ok-kay," I croaked, my throat constricted for some reason.

Scott chuckled nervously. I could hear him scratching his head through the phone. "Heh, heh… Anyways, uh… You can put that Freddy head on anytime, and leave it on for as long as you want. Eventually, anything that wandered in, will wander back out. Uh, keep that in mind with those vents on the sides of the room, too, okay, Jeremy? They're big enough to crawl through… There actually used to be a funhouse kinda attraction there before we had to scrap it, so, uh, don't forget to check those vent lights, too."

As he mentioned it, I only just then noticed the gaping, black gaps in the walls to my left and right. I suddenly felt extremely exposed on all sides. Stiffening in my chair, I clamped down on the surface of the phone till my fingers cracked.

Scott then ripped me out of my wary, paralyzed trance with a few words of overdue encouragement. He didn't pause once for me to say anything. "But hey, you've got nothing to fear, trust me. This is just the beginning of a thrilling career! You're gonna be my champ guard, I just know it! Well, I think that's it. You should be golden. Uh, watch your flashlight battery, check the lights, put on the Freddy head if you need to, uh, keep the music box wound up. Piece of cake. Have a good night, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The line went dead before I could utter a word.

Above the droning of the phone, an ungodly silence settled in, dominating the air and stealing my breath away with it. Y'know, I never knew how long I could sit without breathing.

No, seriously, I couldn't breathe for what felt like an eternity, my lungs as paralyzed as the rest of my body. My fingers were frozen in a vise-grip around the phone, my legs numb, my eyes wide open, staring perilously into the black hole before me.

Thankfully, though, the monitor slipped out of my hand and crashed onto the desk, jolting life back into my stiff body. Before I could pause to take in a breath, I was suddenly overcome by an awful, violent shudder - it shook my vision and rattled my bones and teeth, making placing the phone back a difficult task, but I managed.

As soon as it was safely back on its pedestal, my heart almost leapt straight outta my chest. I thought I heard something - some movement, the subtle shuffling of a pair of feet.

_What was that noise?! _I screamed in my head, too terrified to speak aloud. My breath heightened considerably. _What was that…?! Nobody's in here but me! _Suddenly my blood curdled as a terrible, nightmarish thought twisted to life inside my mind. Scott's words echoed back to me, haunting my denial. _Wait..._

I nearly dove across the desk to grab the monitor, pulling it up and shoving it in my face. My fingers were shaking hopelessly, my palms and fingertips already slipping on the monitor's surface from sheer sweat. I could barely flip through the screens without fumbling around with the accursed thing, almost dropping it several times.

I didn't bother checking the entire restaurant. I was afraid I already knew where my attention needed to be focused: CAM 09, the show stage. And sure enough, as soon as the feed came up, my heart plummeted into my stomach, wallowing in the roiling, sickly soup that was my grotesque mental horrors come to life.

Bonnie was gone.

* * *

**OH NO! I'm getting flashbacks of my first time playing FNAF 2. Hoo, boy...**

**Anyway, what'd you think?! Didja like it? No? Anything? I'm open to any comments, predictions, anything if you'd like. I really enjoyed writing the whole Puppet sequence and the first conversation with Phone Guy - it got me thinking how the night would play out if you could actually talk to him, y'know?**

**And see, Vincent ain't _so_ bad... or is he? Heeheeheehee... Guess we'll see... **

**I am gonna be pulling my personal experience with the game in this story, and since I've only gotten to play the iOS version (where the animatronics are more aggressive), you'll be getting a taste of exactly what I had to deal with in the coming chapter.**

**Stay tuned, night guards!**

**Peace!**


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